In honour of the twelve days of Deadpool, a take-over orchestrated by the legendary red guy in a suit himself, it's time for a little poem to relax you and yur children and help them fall fast asleep before the big day, that's right I'm talking about the 25th of December, that special day when...

The Next Deadpool Trailer Will Be Released!

We've already seen an incredible pile of posters, teasers, and just plain fun Deadpool stuff released, but tomorrow is officially known as Trailer Eve and then comes Trailer Day, so it's time to celebrate the coming trailer with a little poem I wrote. This is of course entirely my own work, and any resemblance relating to any works real or fictional are totally coincedental.

(For official purposes I should say this is totally an almost exact copy of "Twas the night before Christmas". Just in case you didn't realise).

'Twas the night before Deadpool, when all through New York

Not a hero was stirring, not even a Stark;

The stockings were hung by the reactor with care,

In hopes that St. Wade soon would be there;

The Hulks were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of Vision danced in their heads;

And Widow in her leather, and I and old Cap,

Had just finished foiling a dastardly kidnap.

When out in the bathroom there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the sofa to see what was the matter.

Away to the toilet I flew like Quiksilver,

Tore open the lid and threw up the shitter.

While looking down into the bowl,

I noticed something shocking to my very soul,

For what to my wondering eyes should have movements,

But a chimichanga truck, and eight tiny mutants,

With a little red driver, so sullen and dismayed,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Wade.

More rapid than Chitauri his mutants they came,

And he whistled, and jeered, and called them by name;

"Now, BANSHEE! now, PSYLOCKE! now, ANGEL and CHIMICHANGA!

On, LOCKHEED! on NAMOR! on, STORM and MYCOPLASMA!

To the Taco Bell for a bite or six to eat,

And then to the Wendy's up on sixth street".

As St. Wade laughs and the mutants they sigh,

They suddenly meet with a really bad guy,

So up to the roof-tops the mutants they flew,

With the truck full of treats, and St. Wade too.

And then, in a second, I heard on the roof

A banging and clanging and a massive great ooph,

As I drew on my suit, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St. Wade came with a bound.

He was dressed all in leather, from his head to his boot,

And there was a copious amount of blood on his suit;

A bundle of pancakes he had flung on his back,

He looked like a horror, I was quite taken aback.

His swords -- how they shined! his guns how scary!

His head was like a scrotum, his ass like a cherry!

St. Wade himself did look quite content,

Though the side of his head had quite an indent.

The stump of a dagger was lodged in his side,

From which days ago he should slowly have died;

He did, with a wink, urinate in the fire,

And as he did, he sang just like a beautiful choir.

Out of his bag he took the head of an elf,

And I screamed when I saw it, in spite of myself!

With a wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

He soon let me know I had something to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went quick to his work,

And emptied all the stockings, then turned with a smirk.

And laying his finger inside of his nose,

And flipping me off, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his truck, to his team gave a tug,

And away they all went, with other heroes to bug.

But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy Deadpool to all, and to all a good-night!"

The End!

Thanks for reading guys. If you want to read an in-depth trailer breakdown of the new trailer when it arrives on Christmas/Deadpool day, then click on the big blue follow button below!

And once again, all credits for the original poem, of which this was a rip-off, go to the original writer, Clement Clarke Moore.